


Alternia

by MsOzma, sonicSymphony, stellaver



Series: Universum Exemplum [1]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Sgrub Session, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-01
Updated: 2014-09-01
Packaged: 2018-02-15 18:44:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2239374
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MsOzma/pseuds/MsOzma, https://archiveofourown.org/users/sonicSymphony/pseuds/sonicSymphony, https://archiveofourown.org/users/stellaver/pseuds/stellaver
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On the eve of revolution, Feferi has many choices to make.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Alternia

**Author's Note:**

> The order of the series doesn't matter, but Alternia and Beforus are siblings because they're technically part of one piece written from the Homestuck Shipping World Cup 2014 by Team Eridan<>Feferi. Livinginthesubjunctive on Tumblr did the main image and most of the planet at the beginning; Sonicsymphony helped with the planet image, wrote, and edited; Msozma wrote and edited; and Stellaver edited.

 

**Heiress** ( _noun_ ): a woman or girl who will receive (or already has received) money, property, or a title from another troll, especially an ancestor, when that troll dies.

You don’t think Trollipedia’s definition of the word does it justice, so the article definitely wasn’t written by an actual heiress. Even though you’re a mere three sweeps old, you know what “heiress” _really_ means—it means a golden circlet that gives you headaches; it means that in seven sweeps, you will have to fight the current empress to the death in front of trolls who worship her and despise you; it means everyone is afraid to get to know you, because a relationship with you would mean culling upon adulthood. Those before you had bared their throats for Her Imperious Condescension’s trident and died, alone and afraid with no allies.

That will not be you.

Sometimes, when you have daymares and you end up dozing off curled in one of Gl’bgolyb’s tentacles, she speaks to you. _Brave Feferi_ , she whispers, pulling you closer. _Precious Feferi, tireless Feferi, fearless Feferi_. You can barely hear her voice, since if she raised it any louder it’d kill off a good chunk of the population, but her words still comfort you. If Gl’bgolyb—a being so powerful that she could commit mass genocide by saying a single word—thinks you’re daring enough to defeat the reigning tyrant, you should be able to do it.

Even as you tend your cuttlefish and browse through online forums, your duty and destiny are always on your mind, like they’ve become a part of the diadem you wear. You’ve learned how to stay happy and cheerful despite your impending doom, because somehow you still find the world around you beautiful and EXCITING. On days like today, though, you’re reminded how cruel this society can be. Your walk on the beach has been interrupted by two trolls fighting viciously in the distance. As soon as you notice them, you pull out your trident and run over, hoping to end the strife.

They don’t notice your approach. A larger troll has one with wavy horns and glasses in a headlock, clumsily holding a knife to his throat as the one in distress tries desperately to reach a gun lying in the sand. The one winning snarls something about the other being a casteist prick.

“Stop it!” you exclaim, pointing your trident outwards, and they both whip their heads to look at you. The wavy-horned one recovers faster, kicking out and sending his aggressor stumbling back. He uses his few seconds of freedom to scoop up the gun, aim as the bigger troll regains his balance, and pull the trigger. The gaping hole that’s burned through other troll kills him instantly.

Repulsed by the sight, you take a few steps back and raise your trident again, because the sea dweller could be dangerous. You watch his vitriolic expression shifts; now he just looks nauseated.

Then the dead troll’s lusus comes charging at him, erupting onto the beach from the mangroves hugging the sand. It’s some kind of long-necked, flightless cheepdad that could probably satisfy your own custodian for a few days, and as you pull your trident back to throw it, the boy shoots your target.

After a few moments of silence, you ask, “Can I have it?”

He flinches, blinking at you behind his thick glasses. “I forgot you were there.”

Irritated and still shaken by the incident you just witnessed, you snap, “Can I have the lusus or not?”

“Why do you want it?” he asks suspiciously.

Gulping, you reveal, “My lusus eats other lusii.”

He gives you a look like that’s the weirdest thing he’s ever heard before he captchalogues his gun and says, “Only if you don’t feed it mine. He’s a skyhorse, you’ll know him when you see him.”

“Fine.”

It looks like he’s about to leave, but his nosiness wins out and he asks, “What’s the golden tiara thing for?”

Well, you guess this conversation was getting a bit long. He’s never going to want to speak to you again after this. “I’m the heiress.”

The declaration doesn’t have the expected effect. “The heiress, huh?” He’s weighing it in his mind, because he knows interacting with you is a death sentence. Finally, he makes a choice and takes a few steps forward, closing the gap between you and holding out his hand. “I’m Eridan. Eridan Ampora.”

You feel giddy, almost forgetting the blood he just spilled because he’s actually _introducing himself_! You reach out and shake his hand like you’ve seen trolls greet each other in movies. “Feferi Peixes.”

His lusus finally makes an appearance hours later. You’d been sitting cross-legged together in the sand, far away from the bodies and upwind so they don’t smell. As he saddles up and floats away, he calls out, “My Trollian is caligulasAquarium! Message me when you get back to your hive.”

“Bye!” you call, desperately repeating _caligulasAquarium_ again and again under your breath so you won’t forget it. You’ll have to download Trollian—you know what it is, you’ve just never had a reason to use it before!

Then you remember you still have to perform your duty. Sighing, you trudge over to the dead lusus, grasping it by the neck and swimming down to the crevice your mother lives in. She’s happy with the meal; she praises you, whispering that this is the biggest yet and one day, you’ll be able to bring her even _larger_ prey.

The words don’t have the desired effect. You give her a weak smile before ascending to the shallower waters around your hive. You pick at your chipped fingernails the entire way, yearning for a day where you don’t have to wash the stench of death from your hands.

 

* * *

 

As you straighten your circlet, you think it’s heavier than ever. At just over ten sweeps, you would think you’d be used to it by now, but as plans became actions and ideals became revolution, your circlet became weighed down by the lives and futures of billions of trolls relying on you.  
But, like with hunting for your lusus, it is a burden you now share.

Eridan barges into your shared guest respiteblock without knocking. He’s dressed in sleek black clothes, bare of any adornments besides his sign on his right shoulder. It’s strange to see him dressed so, because he’s always had a… _unique_ sense of style, but for now, he’d rather be practical. “You almost ready?” he asks.

“Yeah,” you sigh, yanking the hem of your tank top down so it covers the top of your skirt. “Let’s go.”

Gamzee’s hive is _huge_ ; it’s even bigger than yours was. It’s been two perigees since you swam home to find your hive blown to smithereens. You’d gone to your moirail in a panic, thinking that _she_ had already found you and wanted an immediate challenge, but when nothing else happened, you decided destroying your home was a warning shot.

Luckily, at that point you were very close to having Alternia under your heel, so it was a relief when Gamzee said you could use his hive as a base of operations for the coming perigees. Twelve trolls now reside here, and your living situation is a lot more comfortable than it would be if you decided to cram yourselves into Eridan’s shipwreck.

Surprisingly, when you move towards the back door to head outside, Eridan shakes his head, taking your hand and leading you farther down the hall. “Where are we going?” you question.

“I thought we could try something new,” he says with a smirk. “I’ve got a surprise for you.”

“Oh cod, you didn’t make another shitty wand trap, did you?”

Huffing, he squeezes your hand. “That was _one time_ , let it go.”

“I don’t think I’d ever seen you blush that hard before,” you tease, poking him lightly in the gills with your free hand. “You really know how to make a troll feel pale.”

“Shush,” he says, the swell of violet on his cheeks making his freckles stand out. Eridan takes you to the door that leads to Gamzee’s massive, empty garage (he said something about the previous owner being a collector) and with a surreptitious grin, he opens the door.

The area is no longer empty. Smug, Eridan lets go of you to cross his arms over his chest as he says, “You know that thing Eq, Sol, Vris, and I were workin’ on?”

“Yeah,” you respond breathlessly.

His smile widens. Sweeping an arm out, he says, “This is it.”

The garage is _full of ships_. As Eridan walks down the stairs to the floor, he explains, “We tried to figure out exactly what kind of vehicles we’d need if we ever had to launch an attack. Since the plan is to get the Condesce on-planet, we didn’t need anything equipped for deep-space travel, but they’re capable of reaching either of the moons. We pulled together a lot of our savings, and we were able to get two hundred. I know that’s miniscule compared to the fleet, but… it’s something. And, here’s the part you’ll like,” he pats the hull of one as he passes, “no helmsmen needed.” His posture shifts to something more timid as he turns around, and he steeples his fingers, tapping his pointers together nervously. “Do… Do you like them?”

“Do I like them?” you echo. You look around, pretending to be pensive, and as his apprehension peaks, a grin breaks out on your face as you close the space between you, throwing your arms around his neck. You actually have _ships_ , you have a _small armada_ ; now it won’t just be you and your friends on the ground against the Condesce! “Of course I do, you suckerfish! Our chances of winning now are through the roof! _Pchooooooo_!” You lift your arms toward the ceiling and throw your head back, laughing and feeling _confident_.

“Then let’s take one out for a ride,” he proposes, leading you to a small vessel that’s obviously meant for close-to-ground travel only. It’s a skeleton of metal, with space for around three trolls and plenty of open space to shoot lusii. “This one is more of a recreational vehicle; there are no weapons systems to speak of, but I know how to fly it. I’ve attached a net to the bottom to carry any kills we get, and once we get to Gl’bgolyb’s drop-off zone, I can just press a button and it’ll drop the net.”

You both climb in and get situated; Eridan turns it on and fiddles with some dials on the dashboard. One of the numerous garage doors opens, and the ship rises and zips outside, nimble and speedy. Eridan takes you up above the trees and amps up the speed; you’re thankful for the windscreen up front, because your hair is already whipping around violently from just the open sides.

A few hours later, you’re flying over the ocean, and you can _definitely_ feel the weight of all the lusii in the net hanging below you. You managed to get five—two are pretty big—and Eridan is determined to take down a skywhale so you definitely won’t have to worry about Gl’bgolyb for a while. You dump your catches at the regular spot and you know they’ll float down to her, even without your usual guidance. Since you’re so close to her, it feels like she’s wrapped a tentacle around your mind, but she hasn’t whispered anything. It almost seems like she’s _trying_ to be silent.

As you help Eridan comb the atmosphere for skywhales, something too bright to be a star catches your eye. Squinting, you stand; that hardly helps. The wind is strong enough that if you weren’t fuchsia-blooded, you’d be knocked over, but as you shield your eyes from the moons’ glare, you can see a vague shape and a tinge of red.

All positive emotions are expunged from you at once. “Eridan,” you say sharply, and he senses your dread and slows down, coming to hovering silently over the ocean a few seconds later. He abandons the controls and stands with you.

“Fef, what is it?”

“ _Look_.” You point at it, and he takes off his glasses to see better. (It’s his near-vision that’s fucked up.) “I think it’s…”

His expression slacks, his fins drooping as he flops back into his seat. Swallowing, Eridan turns the ship and sets it to autopilot back to Gamzee’s hive. As it picks up speed, he gets out of his chair and sits in yours before softly gripping your wrist and tugging you into his lap. You can’t look away from the dot in the sky, and you don’t relax into him like you usually do.

“She’s _here_ ,” you can’t help but state.

You don’t notice how much your hands have started to tremble until Eridan winds his arms around your waist so he can take them. Propping his chin on your shoulder, he says, “And now we’re ready for her.”

When you arrive back at the hive, it’s bustling with activity, and the trolls that fill it aren’t just the ones living there: those of all bloodcastes and backgrounds are gathered to prepare for the succession battle and the aftermath. Sweeps of careful preparation have not gone to waste, you realize, as the moment Karkat spots you he strides over. “She’s—”

“In the atmosphere, we know,” Eridan finishes for him.

“Was the message sent?” you ask. Perigees ago, you’d made a recording with Karkat and Tavros—the scion of the Signless Sufferer and the Summoner Reborn, respectively—setting the terms after you’d rallied Alternia to your side. Her Imperious Condescension would come here to face you instead of battling on her flagship; circlets would not be worn, as you’ve heard hers gives her the ability to control the Psiioniic’s powers; no ships would be sent to accept the ten-sweep-olds into the fleet, as was the usual protocol.

Karkat nods sharply. “Yeah, Sollux did it the moment she arrived, and we’re waiting for her response. Basically, we’re stuck until she decides to do something.”

Eridan reaches to take one of your hands. “We’ll be upstairs, then,” he says, and you should be angry with him for deciding what to do _for_ you, but you’re not.

“Message me if you need me,” you add, and Karkat shares a look with Eridan before he heads back over to Sollux.

Eridan takes you to his room and drags you into his scarf pile. He plops down first, letting go of your hand to do so, and then he reaches his arms up like he’s preparing for a hug. You take his cue and flop into the pile between his legs, leaning into him like he’s a chair as his arms wind around your torso and he nuzzles his face into your hair. “We’ve planned everything that happens from here,” he says quietly, reaching under your shirt so he can slowly run his fingers over your gill slits. A shiver runs down your spine. “You don’t need to worry.”

Easier said than done; you’ve been worrying ever since you pupated. However, you don’t feel helpless and weak and alone like the Condesce wants you to. You feel prepared and supported and _strong_ like no Heiress before you has, and as you take Eridan’s free hand and play with the rings on his fingers as his breath ghosts against your fin, you know you’re far from abandoned.

Almost an hour later, the door bangs open, and you’re surprised to see Aradia standing in the doorway. “Can’t you fuckin’ knock?” Eridan demands, and you lightly slap the back of his hand for being rude.

“We thought Tavros was in the garage taking a look at the ships,” Aradia reports, “but when Gamzee went to find him, he wasn’t there. We’ve been searching for him for half an hour, but he’s not _anywhere_.”

As you think of places he could’ve gone, Eridan huffs, “Of course that craven fucker _ran_ when things started gettin’ tough; there’s no chance we’re goin’ to find him, Ara, we might as well give up now.”

She narrows her eyes, snapping, “He’s my _moirail_ , you shithead.”

“Eridan, stop it,” you command, trying to defuse the situation before it can get nasty. “Let’s go downstairs and decide what to do as a _group_.”

 

* * *

 

 

“We can’t just continue the fight _without_ him,” you explain to your gathered allies. “He is an important team member, and not to mention my _friend_.”

Truth be told, you don’t speak to Tavros very often. Still, you aren’t about to make a move without trying to find him.

“Don’t even _bother_ ,” Vriska protests. “Just let him get caught by the Empress or something!”

You shoot a cold look at her, which is enough to shut her up. Eridan, however, picks up where she left off.

“She’s right,” he says. “Tav has been nothing but unhelpful from day one. There’s no need to waste resources tryin’ to find him.”

You shoot _him_ a look more frigid than the one you shot at Vriska, and he looks away like he can’t even face you.

“We’re going to find him,” you say decisively, “and that is _final_.”

Then, getting a great idea, you suddenly turn to Eridan yet again, and with the sweetest expression possible, say, “And _I_ think Eridan should be the one to lead the search party.”

Your moirail turns back to you gaping. “What!?” he demands incredulously. “What the _fuck_ , Fef!? You can’t just send me away like that! I’m one of the most important fighters here!”

“Oh _pleeeeeease_ ,” Vriska says before you can tell Eridan off yourself. “You’re as useless as Tavros.”

Eridan glares at her venomously, though she’s unfazed. You decide to get back to the topic at hand before they can start a fight. “Eridan should go,” you explain, “because I believe he can bring Tavros back.”

Even though it means playing at his ego, you’re sure to send a smile his way so that he knows you’re being sincere. The violet blush that spreads across his face is enough to show you how he feels.

“…Okay,” he responds finally. “But I’ll need a team of people, ready to leave early tomorrow.”

“Done!” you respond. “I’ll contact some trolls tonight, and they’ll be ready by sunset!”

And ready they are. As you wake up along with Eridan and head outside, you see the others—whose names you don’t know—waiting. Eridan begins to mount his lusus before you stop and say something to him.

“Be sure to keep regular contact with me,” you request. “Just so I know where you are.”

Eridan scoffs at you. “I’ll be _fine_ , Fef. Don’t worry so much.”

“Just _promise_ you’ll talk to me,” you insist, more sternly this time. “For my own sake, at least.”

Eridan sighs, but he nods his agreement. “Fine. I’ll message you.”

He offers a fist in the air, and you lift yours as well, smiling widely at him as they connect.

“Pale for you,” you say.

“Pale for you,” he responds, with a small but noticeable smile.

As the party embarks, uneasiness grows in the pit of your stomach. You just hope he doesn’t do anything reckless.

That night, you expect some sort of message from him, but nothing comes. Another day passes and turns into night, but there’s _still_ nothing. Finally, you can’t stop yourself from going on Trollian to see why he hasn’t kept his promise. But before you can, a message pops up, stopping in your tracks.

Seeing the sender turns your veins to ice.

)(er Imperious Condescension started fucking messaging you

)(IC: yo gurl  
)(IC: two fins i gotta glub at u  
)(IC: numba one  
)(IC: DONT YOU _DAR-E_ TRY TO SPY ON M-E AGAIN YOU )(-EAR  
CC: _W)(at?_  
)(IC: dont efin TRY to act all clueless pike u dont minnow what im carpin bout  
)(IC: i found ur crew  
)(IC: all snoopin on my royal shellf and ships  
)(IC: let their gutted bodies be a fuckin L-ESSON to u in manners UND-ERSTAND

You immediately tense at her remark, knowing what she means by “gutted bodies.”

You’re about to protest her assertion about sending spies as well as _scream_ at her for killing your people before your mind goes to Eridan and it starts to click.

Of course he would do something like that. Of _course_ he would try to go to the ships if he saw them. Because he’s your moirail, and _your moirail_ is obsessed with wartime glory! How the fuck can he be so _stupid_!?

But you can only be mad at him for a second as your frustration turns to a hollow numbness at the thought of him being dead, three fork holes in his abdomen. Before you can ask, though, she messages again.

)(IC: numba two  
)(IC: i got yo buoy  
\---)(er Imperious Condescension sent you some shit called #gotyoboo.gif---

 

[ ](http://imgur.com/pl568S1)

You stare in horror and the selfie of her puckering her lips and holding Eridan like he was her new _boy toy_. The horrendous glittered text which was clearly edited in just makes it all the more nauseating.

And Eridan…you can’t _stand_ to see that look of hopelessness in his eyes.

Your hands shake not from fear, but from _rage_ as you type a response.

CC: W)(at t)(e FUCK did you do to )(im?  
CC: IF I FIND OUT )(-E WAS AT ALL )(URT BY YOU, I WILL MAK-E YOU _PAY_!!!  
)(IC: hahahahaha straight up fuckin adorbs how u think u got ANYFIN on me  
)(IC: but u can chill the fuck out cause i aint done shit to him yet  
CC: DON’T -EV-EN _TRY_!!!!  
)(IC: if i was u  
)(IC: which im clearly NOT cause im betta than u  
)(IC: id clam the fuck up and mind my place  
)(IC: im standin next to ur buoy right now and hes almost pissin his pants knowin i can fork him any coddamn second so u betta start DOIN W)(AT I SAY

She’s holding him hostage, leaving you no choice. It hurts your pride to bend to her whims, but not as much as it would hurt to know you could have helped him and you didn’t.

CC: ...Fine.  
CC: W)(at do you want me to do?  
)(IC: u want this fishdick  
)(IC: come get him  
)(IC: u made ur recupercoon now roll in it

)(er Imperious Condescension logged the fuck out

So that’s what it’s about. She wants you to come to her on _her_ terms.

And with Eridan in tow, she guaranteed that.

It only takes a second for you to grab your trident and head for the door. You open it to see a somewhat flustered Karkat standing there. You’re sure he probably came there to ask about Eridan; he’s been worried about his matesprit. Before he can ask, though, you tell him the situation. “Eridan’s been kidnapped. Tell everyone else to get up.”

“ _What_!?” he exclaims.

“I _said_ ,” you bite, “wake everybody up. We’re boarding the Empress’ flagship.”

 

* * *

 

“FF, are you _sure_ about this?”

You swallow as you eye the shuttle. The Condesce’s guards watch as you look at it suspiciously, wondering what sort of treatment you and your entourage will receive. Your small boarding party consists of Sollux (you’d fought with him mere minutes earlier, because you didn’t want to risk the life of another one of your quardantmates so soon, but he’d been adamant), Kanaya, and some miscellaneous highbloods that volunteered to be by your side. Karkat wanted to come too, but you couldn’t risk yourself and him, especially with Tavros missing. Exhaling, you take Sollux’s hand and squeeze it. After he returns the pressure you let him go and square your shoulders like royalty. “Completely. Let’s go.”

The guards surround your group when you get closer to the shuttle. They lead you onboard without a word, and as you buckle yourself in, you watch as a screen in front of you lights up with the Empress’ sign— _your_ sign—before it displays the estimated arrival time: twenty minutes from now.

The ride is silent. After a few minutes, Sollux takes your hand again, rubbing soothing circles on the back of it. You’re not shaking; though you’re afraid, determination takes over, and your pride in yourself and your people makes it so you do not tremble. You raise his hand to your lips and kiss his knuckles, wishing desperately you’re not making the wrong choice by falling right into whatever trap she’s laid for you.

…But she has Eridan. Even if you managed to get her to come down and face you on Alternia like you’d originally planned, you’d hate yourself forever if that cost Eridan his life.

When the shuttle docks, you lead your party deep into the bowels of the Empress’ ship, following the pair of guards to her throne room. Another few escorts are behind you, making sure you don’t try to retreat. All the while, you clutch your trident in your hands. Confidence swells in your chest as the guards each grasp a handle of the gargantuan red doors that lead to the Condesce and pull.

You do not wait for a summons or announcement. Clenching your jaw and tilting your chin up, you stride through the open doors, Sollux and Kanaya flanking you with the rest of your entourage covering your back. In a disrespectful movement, you meet the Empress’ stare, refusing to cower because you are equals in blood and one empress should not kneel to meet another.

She smirks as you stare her down, and something explosive ignites in your belly. Your instincts want her _dead_.

Sollux’s breath hitches, and at first you think it’s because he noticed your shift in demeanor, but then Her Imperious Condescension looks to her left and your gaze is drawn to her long golden trident, standing straight up next to her throne. It’s beautifully made, just like yours is, and as you begrudgingly admire it you notice too late what she is using as a trident stand.

The fire within you dies suddenly, and you’re cold.

Laughter bounces off the walls, echoing in the long, high-ceilinged room, and your lips curl as the Condesce says between chuckles, “Did you expect him to be fuckin’ _alive_ when you got here? Shit, that’s presh.”

Her fingers wrap around her trident, planting her foot down on the holder, and with a sickening squelch, she pulls it free of Eridan’s severed head.

Your snarl penetrates the Condesce’s cackles, and you bound across the room, trident raised and ready to tear her into chunks.

With a clash of metal, her trident blocks yours; she hasn’t even stood up yet. As you sweep your weapon back for another blow, she moves faster than you thought possible, knocking your feet out from under you and sending your tumbling down the dais steps. You’re back up and darting out of the way as her trident flies towards you, and it clatters onto the floor. You lunge for it, and you think you might actually have a chance before it’s encircled by a crackle of psionics and lifted back into her hand.

The circlet on her head glows with a very familiar sign as the psychic energy engulfs her, causing her hair to swoosh behind her like she’s in a music video. “What were you even _doin’_ with that buoy?” the Condesce questions as she charges forward and tries to pierce your abdomen. You dance out of the way, but one of the sharp points still manages to rip your shirt and leave a small cut that hardly bleeds. “Shore, he looked a’ight, but you weren’t fuckin’ him and I woulda thought the shelf-proclamed ‘Empress’ of Alternia would know betta than to stick a coward in her quadrants.”

 _She’s trying to make you angrier so you’ll get sloppy_ , you tell yourself. Growling, you ignore that thought because your rage makes you _strong_ and charge at her once again. The Empress seems ready for you, nonchalantly positioning her trident so it’s ready to block, but at the last second you dip, nearly crouching as you slide on the glistening marble floor to get under her guard and thrust your trident at her stomach.

Psionics throw you out of the way and you tumble, rolling across the throne room as your trident clatters to the ground out of your reach. As you get up, she’s suddenly over you, thrusting downwards with her weapon as you lunge too late—

Then your trident is being thrown into your hands by a halo of blue and red light that matches hers, and you block her swipe and use the momentum to get back on your feet. From behind you, you hear the sound of metal striking bone and you turn around just in time to see Sollux fall to the ground, unconscious from a blow to the head. Kanaya tries to catch him, but then one of the Condesce’s guards knocks her out, too.

“ _Sol-_ ” you start to yell before realizing your folly. You know the attack is coming, but you don’t manage to raise your trident in defense before three sharp points are being thrust into your shoulder.

You’re frozen. The Condesce plants her foot on the small of your back and jerks her trident from your flesh, and you stumble. Though you can’t raise your right arm, you don’t feel the pain so you grit your teeth and swing around. She doesn’t expect your sudden movement so you skewer her thigh; the wounds aren’t nearly as deep as the ones she dealt, and she yells in rage and smacks you across the face with the end of her weapon.

She doesn’t cut you again, but you go down heavily, dazed. You’re surprised to feel how bloody your clothes are, and within seconds a puddle of tyrian begins to form on the floor around your shoulder. You try to open your mouth to speak, but pain spikes and it feels like your jaw is out of alignment with the rest of your skull.

Her Imperious Condescension sticks her trident in your back, purposely missing your heart so you won’t die yet, and just like Eridan you become the bearer of her weapon. As your mind begins to wander, a voice cuts through the haze. “Um, your Condescension, ma’am?”

“ _What_?”

“A fleet of small ships has entered our airspace, and all attempts to engage our planetside troops have been met with resistance. The leader sent a short message, but…”

You feel the gust of wind her hair creates as she turns. She pulls her trident from your back, and your body lifts off the ground before falling back down again. It hardly hurts. You’re almost gone. Through drooping eyes, you watch as the Condesce forks the guard who was speaking. She tells the officer next to him, “Cut to the fuckin’ chase and tell me who’s tryin’ to engage.”

“The Summoner, ma’am,” the officer says, her voice quivering slightly. “He has everything from the horns to the wings.”

She gets culled as well, and the Condesce begins hollering out orders you can barely hear. Your thoughts are consumed with Tavros, because he came _back_.

As your eyes shut, you think that the revolution will not die with you. Tavros and Karkat are _leaders_ , and the movement can continue even once you’re dead. You wish you didn’t have to die, but if you had a choice of whom to leave your duty to, it would be them. Though Tavros is still stretching his wings and learning how to command, Karkat is a natural; he can help Tavros along.

Your last hope is that when your breath finally stops, Eridan will be waiting for you.


End file.
